Page 6 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

Alan

I was not certain what Hugh was expecting. But a non-eventful investigation probably wasn’t it. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how the tom ended up as a commander in the King’s forces , I mused. Hugh is a capable knight, but he often behaves as though he has as much common sense as a sheep.

Alright, I suppose that is rather harsh , I admitted to myself.

Years spent at King Landis’s side honed Hugh’s awareness.

He had a sixth sense for danger… when it came to his liege, but for himself, Hugh appeared to be largely carefree.

The thought weighed heavily on me, even as I felt the steady, light brown-eyed gaze of my companion on my back.

Today, Hugh was, against all odds, taking his mission seriously. I ought not be surprised. Underneath the veneer of flirtatious coquetry, jests, and flamboyant gestures, a certain toughness lay hidden. I simply had not expected it to be applied so assiduously to the task of ferrying myself about.

As I became more aware of how quiet Hugh had become, I found myself focusing even more on the task.

If I were to allow myself to meander, my mission would take all day long.

With Hugh on my heels, however, I attempted to remain on target—entering shops, talking with the shopkeeper, looking around at the wares, and then reviewing ledgers.

Dull stuff. Unbelievably, Hugh held his tongue until we left the last shop, Earyn’s Emporium for Magickal Materials and Stuffs. Standing out on the small, creaking, wooden stoop, Hugh stretched lazily and huffed a sigh. He glanced over at me and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Is that the last of them then?” he asked lightly.

“It is,” I said, offering him a small smile.

I barely managed to stop myself from patting him on the head as though he were a well-behaved kitten.

“And you did so well,” I added.

I couldn’t help myself. Hugh squinted at me suspiciously and pursed his pouty lips. His hands now rested on his hips as I descended the short three steps and turned to look up at him.

“Ex-cuse me. Is that some lip I’m hearing, my young kitten?”

He was calling me a kitten? I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hugh folded his arms and glared down at me, ignoring a plump housewife pushing past him with a blush to enter the emporium.

The knight’s ears had flicked straight up and the fur of his tail fluffed a little.

Hugh’s reddish-brown hair stirred as the light wind brushed against his thick locks.

Suddenly, I wanted to push them back, comb them into place.

Fighting a blush, I glanced away. Hugh finally deigned to descend, no doubt scenting my weakness.

“I thought not,” huffed Hugh with mock annoyance. “And here I was, attempting to be professional, and my companion is attempting to—“

“I am not attempting anything,” I said with my most freezingly cold voice.

“Hm. Yes. And pigs are flying.”

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are—“

I turned to stare at him, opening and closing my mouth wordlessly, no doubt imitating a fish.

Then, shaking my head, I continued to stomp down the main street of Rimefrost. I was not about to let myself get drawn into some infantile game with Hugh.

Not today. At least, not in public. Behind me, silent once more, Hugh trailed after.

He caught up with me easily, his long, loose-limbed stride matching mine.

There was something graceful about the way he moved—like a dancer, a dancing fighter. It was hard not to watch Hugh walk.

Oh gods. Save me , I prayed. I’m getting distracted by the sway of a tom’s hips. I might as well cast myself on a pyre right now and be done with it.

I peeked sideways. Hugh’s gaze was riveted on the crowds ahead of us.

I followed his sharp gaze, recognizing the largest market of Rimefrost open before us.

As we continued down the slight hill of the road, I noticed the thick crowds gathered round the main stage.

A tom had been put in the stocks and was being jeered at.

Something to do with rotten fish, going by the rough plaque placed above his head.

Another tom had been placed inside a barrel and was being made to walk around the square.

Something about beer. Hugh told me this was a common practice.

Hugh stopped by a stall selling pastries.

As he ordered two freshly baked turnovers, I glanced about with curiosity.

I did not often come down to the market.

It wasn’t my favorite place—too crowded, too noisy, too smelly.

It was the farthest thing from the White Tower imaginable.

Dirty, packed, noxious. Yet, there was an energy in the late winter air.

The chill remained, hanging about the corners of Rimefrost, but the red cheeks, the boisterous shouts, the lively movement of Rimefrost’s citizens spoke to rising spirits undampened by the long winter.

Among them all, Hugh seemed to fit, oddly enough.

He appeared to draw energy from the crowds.

As mollies and toms passed by, Hugh clapped shoulders, shook hands, and even embraced a few passersby who recognized him.

Everyone seemed to know Hugh. He had a jest for some, a tidbit of court gossip for others.

A few kits who raced over showed off their attempt at juggling. Hugh could, apparently, juggle better.

Finally, the pastries were done. Hugh’s coin was refused. Free pastries. The bastard.

Of course, I received the second, so I bit my tongue, smiled graciously at the stall owner, and followed Hugh through the press of the crowds, as I slowly nibbled on the crispy, steaming apple turnover in my hand.

“Many thanks, Hugh,” I finally said. A little grudgingly, but I said it. “For… you know, everything.”

Hugh shot me a smile and shrugged.

“My pleasure, Alan.”

We finally managed to get past the main press of the crowds, leaving behind the gay awnings, the rows of fresh produce, the haggling, and the hawking.

Now we strolled up the main street to the castle.

Far from the noise of the crowd, I could finally hear myself think…

and hear Hugh as well. Hugh seemed to have spoken genuinely.

Three simple words. My name. My heart skipped a beat.

“What do you think?” Hugh finally asked softly, as we passed by the main gates of the castle.

“About the pastry?” I asked in a deadpan voice. “Perfectly crispy. Proper amount of honey and cinnamon. Five out of five —“ I stopped at the look on Hugh’s face. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”

Hugh led the way up to the castle’s battlements.

The right side was clear of guards. Perfect for speaking in.

I would have preferred the warmth of my rooms or the laboratory, but I hunkered down behind a wide merion while Hugh leaned against an embrasure, enjoying the nippy gusts of wind.

He nibbled on his pastry thoughtfully and waited for my report.

Hugh had remained at my side the entire time, so no doubt he had his own opinions on our investigation, but it was clear that he wanted my perspective.

A warmth spread through my chest at the realization.

Most people didn’t really account for my opinion when it came to court affairs.

Hugh, however, seemed to consider me his equal.

“I—“ I took a deep breath, told myself to calm down, and began the most cogent report I could give without notice. “As you can guess by how chatty the shopkeepers were today, everyone knows everyone in our world.”

“The world of magick and alchemy.”

“Yes. Exactly. Like the court, you know.” I continued.

“My first tests on the assassin’s stomach contents led us to believe that the culprit hailed from the west. Tests on the substance coating the knife revealed that it was poison.

” Patting my satchel, I added, “I will run further tests with the ingredients I bought today in order to break down the exact concoction of said poison. However, my guess is that Mowen is our best bet.”

“Mowen. Hm. But the ledgers were clean… So I must assume that there are other ledgers?”

“You assume correctly.”

I finished the pastry, brushed leftover crumbs off the front of my wool coat, and turned to look up at Hugh.

“I suppose that means a judicious visit to Mowen’s after dark is in order,” sighed Hugh. “Unless the others took my hint? Do you think we can rely on any of the others to search for us?”

“We can.” I nodded. “Between you and me, we dropped enough hints that there’s coin to be had for any news of movement in the undermarket, or black market as you call it.

The initial tests I had run on the poison suggested specific ingredients.

My guess is that Earyn will come through for us.

He has ears everywhere. I believe Mowen supplied the Night Blades with the ingredients, if not the poisonous potion itself. ”

“Hm.”

Hugh gazed out across the city, rested his elbows on rough gray stone, slowly finished his pastry, and fell into deep thought. It was odd to see him so quiet, but I moved to stand by him and enjoyed the moment.

“And there’s the other matter to consider,” I said. “The, er, affliction you survived last night.”

“You have an idea of what caused it?”

“A potion slipped into your drink would be my guess.” I thought back to the thick tome I had quickly checked before our day trip.

“I checked with one of my reference tomes. One popular brew was mentioned. Most of the ingredients are fairly common… except one. A flower from the far south. Bleezie Ellen’s ledgers.

A month ago. Someone ordered it in specially.

It stood out instantly. I wrote down a name, but if the true buyer had any sense or guile, they would have contacted a middle seller.

Nevertheless, I did note the name. You never know.

They might not be as intelligent as they thought they were. ”

“I feel as though we have accomplished much today,” Hugh said. “All thanks to you, Alan. Now I really owe you.”

“It is only the start,” I promised. “I’m going to go work on the poisoned blade today.”

“Back to the alchemical laboratory!”

Hugh pushed himself away from the merion. His tail flicked back and forth happily in excitement. I stared at him in disbelief.

“There’s nothing exciting about to happen, Hugh,” I pointed out. “I will be puttering about—“

“Gareth told me to keep you close… and I will.”

“I’m sure I will be safe in my laboratory—“

“I can take notes.”

“Have you seen your handwriting?” I grumped.

“Have you seen yours?” quipped Hugh.

We stared at each other. Then, as the ridiculousness hit me, I found myself biting back a chuckle.

Hugh laughed and slung his arm around my shoulder, drawing me close.

I caught his scent then, as before. Leather and sunshine and apple blossoms. An earthy nature so foreign to me.

I found my gaze drifting over the low swoop of his cheekbones, the hard line of his stubbly jaw, and the muscle that emphasized his strong throat.

Then up, to those red lips that were now curving upward in a wide smile, flashing a line of his white teeth.

My mouth went dry, instantly as I realized that my gaze had lingered too long.

A red wave flashed over me. Hugh’s gaze narrowed as he no doubt became aware of the direction of my thoughts.

Instantly, I froze up and then, stumbling, jerked away and rushed down the stairs, nearly falling head over heels in my rush.

Hugh, standing at the top, hesitated and then plunged after me.

Fantastic. Now he’s going to know. He’s going to guess.

Pathetic little Alan of the White Tower is clinging to the tom he enjoyed a night of passion with.

Ugh. The last thing I wanted Hugh to guess was where my traitorous heart lay.

Everyone knew that Hugh prized his independence.

And there’s Margriet as well. Whoever she is. I’m not about to—

Tears pricked at the edges of my eyes as I stomped to my alchemical laboratory. Unlocking the door and pushing my way in, I drew in a deep breath. Just the familiar smells and sounds helped to steady me, soothing my nerves and helping me to gain control. Here, I would be safe.

Behind me, I could hear Hugh clattering in.

I set my satchel down on a low table and began to unpack.

There were the ingredients that I had bought for the potion I would brew to identify the poison’s specific mixture.

I withdrew my notebook, copied the names that had stood out to me the most from the ledgers, and tossed the scrap onto the table as I rounded the corner to head for one of my shelving units.

I hadn’t had to brew the Potion of Intelligent Analysis Solvent since my study sessions at the White Tower, but I had dutifully copied it down into my compendium.

Brewing it again would be a simple task for a mage of my caliber.

“Those are some names that might be investigated,” I added.

“Alan—“

“The fact that we were visiting all of the magickal, medicinal, and herbal shops in the city probably won’t go unnoticed, so I’d set your hounds on them sooner than later.” I glanced at Hugh… and then stopped arrested by the tender look on his face. “What?”

Hugh stared at me, glanced down at the paper, and then looked up again.

“Look, Alan, about last night—“

“Like I said,” I said, keeping my voice neutral and business-like, “it’s behind us. I’m sure you’d have done it for any of your friends.”

Hugh stirred, opened his mouth, and then closed it and slowly nodded, allowing the moment to pass.

He didn’t look happy. Part of me hoped that he wanted to push it—to force us to talk about it, but another part of me was relieved.

I felt raw, exposed… I had been caught lusting for something I could never have, never truly own.

I ought not to want to own Hugh. He was his own person.

I only hoped that this investigation would be over sooner than later. For both our sakes.